


(boo-LEE-me-uh)

by Ashes_ToAshes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24696085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashes_ToAshes/pseuds/Ashes_ToAshes
Summary: Sam has been struggling with his eating habits on and off since high school. With the new addition to the family and the stress piling high, Sam's bad habits show their ugly faces. Set after 13x6 "Tombstone"
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	(boo-LEE-me-uh)

**Author's Note:**

> TW; eating disorders (obviously). there are some pretty graphic and disturbing details. I did suffer from bulimia at one point, but it was the non-purging subtype so I did my best based on the experiences of a few friends who suffered from traditional bulimia.  
> For more info  
> https://www.santecenter.com/rehab-blog/non-purging-bulimia/#:~:text=Purging%20is%20one%20group%20of,through%20vomiting%2C%20diuretics%20or%20laxatives.  
> For help  
> https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/

Lunch splattered against porcelain as Sam choked on the back of his toothbrush. He hadn’t expected to relapse, but here he was, kneeling on his bathroom floor, face slick with sweat. He jammed the green handle down his throat one last time. He had to be empty, pure, perfect. At this point, nothing but water and bile had risen out of his raw esophagus. Finally satisfied, he flushed his regret, rinsed off his toothbrush, and went to rinse his mouth. He knew better than to brush, it would only rub the stomach acid into his teeth, speed up the decay, make it noticeable. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t be weak, not with his family relying on him.   
He scrubbed his skin with a hot washcloth, hoping to bring some color back into his sickly looking face. It only worked slightly, as his limp, greasy hair revealed his affliction. Barely satisfied, he exited the bathroom and absconded to the library with a notebook and water bottle. ‘I can’t let this stop me from finding mom, I’ll just have to work through.’ he thought as he cracked open another promising book, praying it had the answers he so desperately sought. Soon enough, Dean came to join him.   
“Sorry ‘bout that, lunch took a lot longer to clean up than I thought it would.”  
Sam bites back a joke about how he had been cleaning up lunch as well. He had almost missed the twisted humor that came with his fucked-up mind.  
“No worries. I haven’t found much anyways”   
He cringed internally. He hadn’t thought his voice would be that hoarse. Dean looked at him funny but otherwise ignored it. His brother quickly grabbed a book from the stack deemed ‘helpful’ and began scanning the endless lines. They stayed like that for hours, the only sound being the odd throat clear or a sip of beverage. The cool water felt oh-so-good against the raw flesh in Sam’s throat. As dinner approached, Sam could feel his pulse quicken slightly. He hoped that Dean would be too absorbed in his work to notice his grumbling stomach and that dinner could pass unnoticed. Unfortunately, he had never been a lucky man.   
“I don’t know about you Sammy, but I’m starved!”   
Sam almost jumped, the sudden loud voice of his brother did nothing but exacerbate the feeling of his nerves fraying.   
“I think I’m onto something Dean. I think I’ll stay down here and keep reading. You go on ahead without me.”   
“Suit yourself, man.” Dean practically shouted as he raced to the kitchen.   
Sam chuckled as he heard his big brother shout the names of the two others who lived with them. He was almost sad but quickly regained control. God, control was all he wanted. He could control his size, his shape, and so he chose to do so. Or at least he told himself that it was his choice. He had to justify this relapse in some way. The familiarity of disorder had a calming effect on him.   
After an hour, Sam decided it was safe to venture to their small kitchen for a water refill and perhaps some conversation. All of the reading had made his head fuzzy, and he decided communication would be a fine antidote. Cas looked up at him when he swung the door open, his hands wrist-deep in soapy water as he scrubbed a plate.   
“ We missed you at dinner,” he said, eying his disheveled hair and dark under eyes.   
“ I thought I was onto something. I didn’t want to risk losing concentration”   
Sam decided to go for coffee rather than water. He grimaced at the room-temperature drink before pouring some into a cup.   
“Well, don't get anything now, I’m almost done with dishes” Cas half-joked.  
Sam smiled at the shorter man and headed to his bedroom. The brassy 21 gleamed, almost seeming to greet him. He couldn’t help but give a lopsided grin as he turned the knob. His bed beckoned him, but he turned instead to his desk. After all, when has a Winchester ever gone to bed at 8:00? He took another sip of his lukewarm coffee and opened his laptop. Soon the clatter of keys could be heard along with the music Dean was blasting in his room. Sam did his best to document what he had found that day. Nothing was really useful, but he still summarized his findings. Maybe one day, the rambling of his notes would come together and make some kind of sense. For now, all he could do was write and maybe even dare to hope.   
****************************

Sam woke up on top of his keyboard. He spent a good 15 minutes deleting the nonsense his face had typed before stepping into his bathroom. He performed all of his usual morning rituals, only laughing a little at the key imprints on his face. Then, the most nerve-wracking part of his day: weigh-in. He grabbed his toothbrush and forced up the contents of his stomach, which at this point was nothing but bile. He had to be empty. The giant rinsed his mouth and stepped on the tiny metal scale. The digital dots filled the small screen as Sam waited nervously to see the damage recovery had done. 220 lbs covered the screen. The cold, unfeeling numbers made Sam’s head spin.  
‘How could I be so heavy? damnit, why did I let myself go like this?’   
Angry tears settled along his waterline, though he refused to spill them. He thought of ways to fix the mess he had caused while pulling on his clothes. He knew they fit him well, but that didn’t stop the fabric from feeling suffocating, and it definitely didn’t stop him from almost retching when he saw his reflection.   
He decided he would run before breakfast. The hunger was starting to get to him. But he would not be weak. He grabbed his water bottle and slipped out the door. ‘It’s only been a day and I’m already on the verge of a binge. Jesus, I’m pathetic’ was his mantra as he jogged along the back roads. The wheat fields were stunning in the light of the sunrise, though he didn't allow himself to enjoy it for too long. He wasn’t allowed to enjoy anything until he was back at his goal weight. He ran until his vision spotted and nausea crashed over him in unrelenting waves. He emptied his stomach for the third time in two days in a ditch on the way home. He mentally apologized to whoever owned the land, rinsed his mouth with what was left in his water bottle, and continued on his way.   
Sam tried his best to keep the fatigue from his face as he entered the bunker. He had a hard time focusing on his destination, but he eventually ventured into the kitchen. Dean had made eggs. They were fried. Of course, they were fucking fried. Dean was sitting at the table along with Jack and Cas. Jack grinned at him as he sat down.   
“Sam, how was your run?” his eyes didn’t share his mouth’s enthusiasm.   
“It was fine, thanks for asking” Sam gave the kid an empathetic smile.   
He knew the kid was hurting after the incident with that security guard. After that, the conversation had dried up. Sam took 2 eggs and covered them with hot sauce. He knew the capsaicin would help jumpstart his metabolism. He choked down the half-cold slimy substance as slowly as he could muster all while sipping a hot, black coffee. No one seemed to notice his internal struggle, too focused on their own plates. Sam knew he should enjoy eating a home-cooked meal, he should be like the rest of them, but he wasn’t. He shivered as he swallowed the last bit of egg. God, he was so hungry, but he refused to give himself more. He volunteered to do the dishes  
“Besides, it's my turn anyway,” he said as he gathered their empty plates. Dean looked pleasantly surprised as he got out of his chair. Sam started the water, making sure that it was just a little too hot. Just enough pain to keep him in reality. He heard the steady bass thump of Renegade as Dean put on music and began cleaning other parts of the bunker. The four of them had decided that Saturday would be the day to clean up the filth that would otherwise accumulate during the week. Dishes were done soon enough and Sam began humming along to the latest tune on the playlist as he began scrubbing every kitchen surface in his view. 

************************************

Sam’s days began to blur as he settled into his new routine. Weigh-in, run, research, repeat. His purging hadn’t gotten in the way much, but he had bought laxatives in case he was ever prevented from emptying himself after a meal. He always kept breakfast, but if he couldn’t avoid lunch or dinner, they would be purged as soon as possible. The numbers went down, and down, and down. Within 2 weeks, he was down to 200 lbs. He was still inexcusably large, but nowhere near as ghastly as he had been the fortnight prior.   
He was surprised that no one had mentioned his waxy complexion, puffy cheeks, or eternally greasy hair. Sam had never been so happy about Dean’s ‘no chick flick moment’s’ policy, or he was sure an awkward conversation would be in store for him. He went to the bathroom to rid himself of the chicken ramen he had eaten. The mini-binge was completely unacceptable, but at least it wouldn’t hurt to bring back up. Noodles were always the easiest to bring back up as long as he chewed well.  
He made himself presentable and headed once more into the library. Dean was on the phone, presumably with another hunter.   
“What do you mean you found a nest? Wendigo’s don’t live in groups.” He sounded agitated. “Look, me and some buddies will come take care of whatever the hell you’ve got going on up there, you keep track of the damn things.” Dean sighed as he hung up.  
“Unbelievable, the kid doesn't even know what he’s fighting. Come on, let’s go get Cas and Jack”  
“Actually, Dean, maybe we should have him sit out this round. He’s still pretty shook up about the security guard.”  
“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving him here alone Sammy.”   
“I’ll stay behind and watch him. Plus that way I can still look for answers”  
“That works fine. I’ve been meaning to talk to Cas alone anyway. He’s been kinda weird since he came back.”  
That being said, he went to inform the angel of the situation and within 10 minutes, Sam could hear the Impala speed out of the garage. Sam first went to check on Jack. He wanted to make sure he was ok and up to date. After that, he took the time to go on another run. He had slowly been working his way up and could now run a full 3 miles before his stomach began to churn. By default, this meant that he always went four. He never satisfied with a workout until he had brought up whatever was in his stomach, which at this moment in time was water and bile mixed with the smallest trace of blood.   
It had happened before, but he made sure to take a break from purging for a few days. Of course, this meant that he was basically fasting, the only calories he allowed from honeyed tea. He took the time to push himself even deeper into his duties. He studies more intensely and trains harder with Jack. The bunker had never been cleaner. Dean had called to tell them both that it would be a few more days yet. There had, in fact, been a pack of wendigos and it was taking much longer to sort out than anyone had anticipated. They had been a cannibal cult, but slowly turned into, well… that. Sam assured his brother that he could handle being alone with Jack a few more days.  
In reality, Sam had been ecstatic to have a few more days to fast. The only problem was that Jack had begun to worry.  
“Sam, I was on the internet, and it said that not eating was a really bad thing. Why did you stop eating when Dean left?" He said, eyes filled with more curiosity than concern.   
“It’s no big deal, my throat has just been sore the last few days” He cleared his throat after to really sell it.  
“Ok, I guess that makes sense. You should still probably eat something though.”  
“Don’t worry Jack, I’ve been through much worse”  
That seemed to satisfy the boy as he went to open his laptop and continued to explore the world he was so suddenly dropped into. Sam honestly had no idea how he coped so well. He was out of the loop and disoriented when he got out of the Cage, but he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Jack. As he thought, he decided that they should have a movie night. Conveniently enough, they were out of popcorn, so it really was a win for Sam. He scrolled through Netflix for something cute. Jack seemed to like touchy-feely stuff and Dean’s absence would make watching such entertainment much easier.   
He had eventually settled on Coco, seeing as it was almost Halloween. Plus being trapped in the land of the dead just the right amount of fucked up for him and he definitely got a kick out of reading the description. Jack agreed and they sat down to watch the Disney flick. Sam was very impressed by the animation and he instantly felt for Miguel. He understood very well the pain of wanting to do something that your family will not accept.   
A few hours later Jack was sobbing on the couch singing the half-forgotten words to ‘Remember Me’. Had Sam been a younger man, he probably would have shed a few tears of his own. The joy mixed with notes of sadness at the end hit him particularly hard. He had not learned to cope with loss as well as Miguel had. And he was a grown-ass man who might have shed just one tear. Jack had calmed down and tried his best to sing in Spanish. It was absolutely adorable. Sam felt a bit of healing in his scarred soul.   
The remaining few days had passed quickly. Before he knew it, Cas had called to inform the two that they would be home in an hour or so, and that dean wanted meatloaf. Sam let out an exasperated sigh as he threw the ground beef into the microwave to thaw the slightly freezer-burned loaf. There were about 10 minutes left on the stove when he heard the familiar sound of the Impala rolling into the garage. THUMP! Dean had thrown his things onto the ground and ran into the kitchen.  
“I didn’t think you’d actually make it Sammy!” grinned like the Cheshire cat, eyeing the oven greedily.   
“Well, I wasn’t doing much else, plus you and Cas could probably use a nice meal after the week you’ve had. “   
Plus it gave him something to do other than fixating on his emptiness. The conversation ended with the timer going off. Sam checked if it was done and then smeared ketchup on the top. Sam found that he enjoyed every bit of the meal. He was glad to have his (mostly) whole family back under one roof, eating a home-cooked meal and having one of the best conversations he’d been apart of in a long time. He smiled and joked with the people he loved most. Until the guilt hit him like a truck.  
He excused himself from the table more awkwardly than he would have liked. On top of stumbling over his words, he also hit his shoulder on the doorframe. He didn’t care once he was out of that god-forsaken kitchen. He just needed a toilet, to get the ick out of his body. He had to be pure.


End file.
